


all those little eyes twinkling

by phantomlistener



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Betazoid, Canon Compliant, Female Friendship, Gen, Worldbuilding, gay if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-18 16:06:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18123479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomlistener/pseuds/phantomlistener
Summary: "She had agreed in a heartbeat: shore leave within the Federation was rare enough for an exploration vessel, and Deanna's invitation to see her home planet had been a welcome offer.  But now, as she wiped away the bead of sweat that threatened to trickle into her eye, Beverly Crusher was beginning to reconsider."





	all those little eyes twinkling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [parcequelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/parcequelle/gifts).



She had agreed in a heartbeat: shore leave within the Federation was rare enough for an exploration vessel, and Deanna's invitation to see her home planet had been a welcome offer.  But now, as she wiped away the bead of sweat that threatened to trickle into her eye, Beverly Crusher was beginning to reconsider.  She was glad of her tank top and shorts, and grateful for Deanna’s insistence that she replicate a new pair of lightweight hiking sandals, but there was a definite blister on her left heel and not even Starfleet's best suncscreen had stopped the faint red flush on her shoulders.  
  
On the plus side the path was almost flat, a gentle upwards slope that wound around and between towering Taura trees whose trunks were covered in twisting vines, pink flowers on a spectrum from candyfloss to magenta. The scent of the flowers was heady and thick, heightened by the humid air that lay in dense, damp layers all the way to the tops of the trees.  
  
Beside her, Deanna was sickeningly untouched by the humidity. She had grown up here, Beverly supposed, but still – while Deanna’s hair tangled itself up into tighter curls, her own fell limply onto her neck and began to stick, and where Deanna’s cheeks were pale and soft, she knew hers were flushed and red with exertion.

Sometimes biology was a real bitch.  
  
The path widened to meander round a fallen tree trunk. “Let’s take a breather,” Deanna said easily, dropping her backpack to the ground and perching on the end of the log not covered with some sort of bright ivy-like creeper. Her accent had grown stronger since they’d arrived on-planet, her childhood language pulling harder at the edges of her musical Standard pronunciation. “This climate is so natural to me I keep forgetting you’re not used to it.”  
  
“Have you been eavesdropping on my brain again?” Beverly asked, mock-suspicious, as she sat down beside her. She stretched her legs out in front of her, relishing the dappled sunlight that warmed her skin even through the high canopy of leaves.  
  
“No,” Deanna said impishly, “I could just see your poor Terran legs getting tired.”  
  
“Oy! Pick a planet where you don’t have a biological advantage and I am easily your equal, and you know it.”  
  
Deanna just laughed. Somewhere above them a bird trilled out a repetitive song and Beverly strained her eyes to catch a glimpse of it, but only saw a flash of red on a high-up branch before she was distracted by the butterflies that danced in and out of the sunlight, pastel-toned and jewel-toned and full of life. The air was thick with the scent of flowers, almost soporific in its intensity.

Footsteps through the undergrowth disturbed the tranquillity and Beverly’s distracted gaze was pulled away from the spectacle above her in time to see a group of five people traipse out of the bushes, dressed for walking in loose thin layers of shiny fabric. They crossed the path and headed into the bushes on the other side, confident in their route in the way that only native inhabitants could be.

She had the oddest sensation that they were being studied. “Why are they looking at us like that?”  
  
Deanna glanced only briefly over at the disappearing group of hikers. “Ah, that,” she said, turning her attention back to Beverly. “I was going to mention it, but I didn’t think it would matter – I mean, you’re not a Betazoid, so it’s hardly important.”  
  
“What isn’t?!” Deanna was a psychologist, well-versed in guiding conversations towards and away from uncomfortable topics, and her evasions were usually far more polished and seamless than this. This slightly awkward attempt at avoidance was unusual, and Beverly’s curiosity was piqued. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”  
  
“Usually...when two people come into the Kalaya Jungle together, it... means something.” A soft blush the colour of rosy clouds at dawn spread across her cheeks, but her eyes were sparkling with amusement. “It’s...a statement of intent, if you will. You need a pass to walk here, and very few people venture in, so spending time together here without the constant background noise of other Betazoid telepaths allows people to figure out if they’re...compatible.”  
  
“Deanna Troi, have you brought me on some kind of Betazoid mating ritual?!”  
  
Her blush deepened to the exact same shade of pink as the flowers of the climbing vine twined around the tree next to her. “Beverly! I would never do something like that without asking you first. It...it doesn’t mean the same for us: the whole point of the ritual is to allow those with telepathic powers to get to know each other properly. Since I’m not a full Betazoid and you’re not even remotely telepathic, it really doesn’t have any significance at all.”  
  
Beverly’s lips quirked in the beginnings of a smile, quickly hidden. “So I’m not marriage material, then. A shame, I was just starting to think there might be something to this ritual.”  
  
“Oh, honestly.” Deanna grabbed her bag , stood up, and started walking in one graceful move that Beverly, ever the dancer, silently admired. “It’s just an old tradition.”  
  
“Wait a minute,” she called after a moment, running to catch up. The grass was lush and springy under her sandals. “What about the people that just passed us?”

Deanna slowed her pace and waited for Beverly to reach her before answering. “They might be a polyamorous group, or they might just be hikers. Couples are an unambiguous sign, but it’s harder to tell with groups of more than two people.”  
  
“An unambiguous sign...but not for you?” she asked tentatively.  
  
Deanna shrugged. “I’ve always been slightly...disconnected...from the more traditional rituals. The oldest parts of Betazoid culture are almost entirely built on full telepathy.”

Beverly nodded, and let the conversation slide into companionable silence.  
  
Less than a minute later, the silence was broken by her squeal of surprise as a purple-spotted beetle dozing on an overhanging leaf made a mad dash for her hair. “It probably just thinks it’s a warmer bed,” Deanna said, amused, as she coaxed the bug into her hands. “Poor thing, there are some things it just can’t understand.”  
  
Beverly rolled her eyes, but stayed very still until the interloper was safely back on the leaf where he belonged. “Practicing psychology on a beetle, Deanna? Are you really missing your patients that much?”  
  
“Not in the slightest,” she pronounced happily.

“Good,” said Beverly, and deliberately didn't mention the _Enterprise_ for the rest of the day.  
  
*

It was late afternoon by the time they approached the spot Deanna had marked as their camp for the night. The sunshine was weakening into a mellow, comforting richness, and the host of butterflies and insects that had earlier been darting about the place were noticeably lazier in their motion. The path, previously flat and easy, took a sudden downward turn and Deanna led the way, picking a careful route from solid rock to solid rock and avoiding the loose stones that trickled downhill regardless with every step. The further they went, the more the trees cleared, and the stifling humidity eased a little.  
  
The path, or what there was of it, turned a sharp corner and the sound of water that had been ever-present as a background hum opened up suddenly into a deafening roar. In front of them, pouring out over the cliffs high above, a waterfall thundered down into a fast-flowing river, the water clear as glass where it wasn’t eddying and swirling and distorting the riverbed beneath into a dizzying kaleidoscope.  
  
“Pretty incredible, isn’t it,” Deanna said, her voice raised to carry over the sound of the water. “This is the biggest waterfall on the whole planet.”  
  
“You really are showing me the sights,” Beverly quipped.  
  
For the second time that day a faint blush suffused Deanna’s cheeks, and for the second time that day it had nothing to do with the physical exertion. “I enjoy sharing my world with friends. It feels like letting people into a big part of my identity.” Her eyes lifted up to the spectacle of crystal-clear water tumbling hundreds of thousands of gallons at a time from a clifftop that glittered green with mineral deposits. “I always think this place must be even more beautiful to those who can really appreciate the telepathic silence.”  
  
“I don’t know, maybe they just judge it using different criteria.”  
  
Deanna flashed her a grateful smile. “Well. How do you feel about this as a spot for the night?”  
  
“Promise me there are no bloodsucking insects?”  
  
“Don’t worry, we’re safe. The ones that bite tend to be attracted by stagnant water.”  
  
Beverly looked up at the waterfall, plummeting down in a cascade of diamonds. “In that case....”  
  
They set up camp halfway between the path and the water (Beverly refused to be buried by a rock slide, or to become prey to some sort of telepathic crocodile, despite Deanna’s reassurances), and let the dizzying afternoon melt into early evening over easy chatter and half Deanna’s emergency stash of chocolate.  
  
Dinner was simple, quick-cook rations a few steps up from Starfleet’s finest that Deanna had picked up in Larosa, the closest town to the jungle and de-facto supply store, and afterwards they spread a large soft blanket out on the grass and sprawled across it, full of food and muscles aching slightly from the hike.  
  
“I'm glad you invited me,” Beverly said drowsily. Tendrils of cool air were making their way through the humidity and brushing across her exposed skin, warmth leeching from their surroundings as the sky darkened and deepened into night; rushing water played a constant rhythmless continuo. “Your planet is beautiful, Deanna.”  
  
“I've never been out here with someone else.” It was almost confessional, hung soft and meaningful against the night.  
  
“Not even Will?” Beverly asked, curious.  
  
Deanna shook her head.  
  
“I get why people come here,” Beverly said. “Together, I mean. There's something about this place.”  
  
“There's something to be said for getting to know someone in solitude,” Deanna replied quietly. “Telepathy or no.” She was a dark-haired vision in the fading light, her gaze at once knowing and sweet. “Just us and the stars.”  
  
Beverly smiled. “Tell me about them,” she said, and lying on the grass under an unfamiliar sky she listened as Deanna reached back into her childhood to weave tales of the constellations that shimmered, comforting, high above.

**Author's Note:**

> I have to admit here that the title is nabbed from _Comet in Moominland_ :
> 
> "Stars!" he exclaimed. "Then I must come with you. Stars are my favorite things. I always lie and look at them before I go to sleep, and wonder who is on them and how one could get there. The sky looks so friendly with all those little eyes twinkling in it.”


End file.
